Italian Tycoon, Secret Son

CHAPTER SIX

THE thought of staring at four walls was intolerable so, instead of returning to the hotel, Mandy walked the streets of Milan until she was tired.

Well, what did I expect? she demanded of herself. I’ve been a fool, living in a dream world. It’s not just that he doesn’t know me, it’s that he doesn’t want to know me. I ought to leave, but I can’t yet because there’s still something he needs to know.

At last she wandered back to the hotel and put through a call to her flat in England. It was answered by Sue, the friend she’d told Renzo about, long ago, who now lived with her.

‘How did it go?’ Sue asked.

‘Badly. He’s a different man. Oh, Sue, I don’t know how I’m going to manage this. I thought it would be so simple, and I should have known better. I used to wonder why he’d never tried to find me, but how could he when he didn’t know if I was real?’

‘Have you told him-anything?’

‘No. I have to wait for the right time, only I’m afraid it may never come.’

‘Mandy, do you still love him?’

She drew a long breath before saying, ‘I don’t even know that any more. How can I? I don’t know who he is.’

‘Danny’s just woken up. He learned a new word and he wants to tell you about it.’

‘Oh, yes,’ Mandy said eagerly. ‘Put him on.’

A moment later there was a gurgle on the other end.

‘Hello, darling, it’s Mummy. I love you.’

‘Fish!’

‘Is that your new word? You’re so clever.’

‘Fish, fish, fish!’ Danny yelled. ‘Mummy, Mummy, fish.’

‘Yes, darling,’ she said through tears. ‘Mummy’s a fish. I miss you so much. I’ll be home soon, I hope. But Daddy needs me just now. I love you.’

She hung up and dropped her head into her hands, weeping for the child who didn’t know his father, and the father who didn’t know his child.

Mandy was awoken next morning by the phone. It was Lucia, the secretary.

‘He says you must come back. Right now. Please come quickly. You don’t know what he’s like when he doesn’t get what he wants.’

‘I’ll be right there.’

Mandy dressed quickly but carefully, managing to look elegant and serious in perfectly cut trousers. When she was sure she was just right, she walked the short distance to his house.

Renzo was waiting for her in the room where she’d last seen him. He was in the wheelchair, but otherwise looked better.

‘Thank you for coming so quickly,’ he said. ‘I forgot my manners yesterday. Please forgive me.’

‘Of course. You were unwell.’

‘I invited you back because we were trapped together in that avalanche. My memory is patchy but…I do remember you.’

He said the last words with difficulty because they alarmed him. Seeing this woman, a stranger yet oddly familiar, had been a shock, one that he’d tried to cope with by ejecting her. But she wouldn’t be ejected. She’d returned in the night, bringing with her a host of impressions that pounded on his brain and demanded entrance.

They had to fight with a million other impressions. His fall had left him with a broken pelvis and severe spinal injuries, and the memory of that savage agony haunted him still.

In the long weeks in hospital he thought perhaps he’d gone mad-hallucinating, his mind filled with many things that did not make sense. Dancers had spun and whirled, a blazing sun set behind the mountains, and a cheeky little cat mysteriously came and went.

He’d left hospital much sooner than the doctors had advised, to take charge of his business, which had been ailing without him. He’d told himself that he had everything under control. The pain was bad but manageable, his employees obeyed him without question, he was feared and respected.

It was only sometimes that he was troubled-in the still of the night, when the pretty cat with sleek black fur and green eyes returned and wandered impudently through his dreams, before vanishing into the shadows.

She had been there last night, teasing and provoking him until he’d awoken, trembling uncontrollably.

There was only one thing for a well-organised man to do: confront the danger, deal with it and neutralise it.

‘Won’t you sit down?’ he said politely, indicating a chair.

He was already filling her cup from the teapot. ‘You prefer tea to coffee, I seem to recall. You and Henry.’

‘You remember him?’ she asked quickly.

‘How could anyone forget him?’

‘He died.’

‘Yes, I know. Also Joan and Peter, for which I blame myself. I should never have let them come up with me. Thank goodness you’re all right. I have enough on my conscience.’ Before she could reply, he glanced up, saying, ‘Here’s Teresa with the food. I ordered you a complete English breakfast.’

It was perfect-cornflakes, bacon and eggs, toast. Mandy tucked in, really hungry, but also glad of the chance to think rather than talk. Seeing Renzo yesterday-harsh, ill-tempered, unlike the man she remembered, had been unsettling. Now he was smooth, courteous and at ease, but it was the ease of a man who’d hoisted his defences into place. If anything, she’d preferred him yesterday.

‘I was too agitated to ask your name,’ he said smoothly. ‘I got it from Lucia after you left. I remember-there was a Mandy Jenkins in the hut with me. They found her things there, with mine. We were there, weren’t we?’

‘For two days.’

‘It must have been very uncomfortable. Part of the hut was missing, I recall. And it was freezing cold.’

‘We huddled in blankets, and for food we had to make do with the little that was left in the kitchen.’

‘A sad end to a trip that had started so well, except that I think you and I got off on the wrong foot. I annoyed you with some remark I made.’

‘You said I looked delicate,’ she replied lightly.

‘Ah, that was it. But you proved me wrong. You were a much better climber than I expected.’

‘Yes, we surprised each other in lots of ways.’

Here was a chance to trigger off the memories of their personal closeness, their jokey, teasing relationship which had been so sweet even while they’d riled each other.

‘Well, I must admit-’ he started to say, then saw Teresa approaching again. ‘Yes, please, Teresa, we’ll have some more tea.’

While Teresa removed the pot, Mandy held her breath for what he would say next.

‘Where was I?’ he said at last. ‘Ah, yes, I must admit that everyone on that trip surprised me. That’s what comes of taking over someone else’s expedition. Pierre judged very badly, and I meant to tell him so when he came to see me in hospital. But he was in such a state that I couldn’t. He felt so guilty that he closed his business and vanished.’

‘Yes, I heard he’d gone,’ she said in a blank voice.

Her disappointment was severe. He remembered her, but only as one of the crowd.

‘But why should Pierre feel guilty?’ she asked. ‘Henry was a bad choice but Pierre couldn’t have foreseen his behaviour.’

‘That’s what I told him.’

‘And you shouldn’t blame yourself. You were a great leader.’

She was mouthing platitudes, saying anything to keep talking, hoping to find the place where a door could open.

‘I remember on the first day out,’ she went on desperately, ‘Joan slipped and I supported her for a moment. I felt so proud of myself, but actually you were there supporting both of us, as you couldn’t resist pointing out to me the following evening.’

‘Did I? That was rather rude of me.’

‘No, it wasn’t rude at all. We were just bickering as usual. It was rather fun, don’t you remember?’

Renzo made a wry face. ‘Not yet, but I’m sure it will come back soon.’

Mandy felt snubbed. He spoke as an adult patronising a recalcitrant child.

There was silence as Teresa returned with fresh tea, and it stretched on when she’d departed. Mandy struggled to find words but she seemed to be facing a blank wall.

‘We used to have some choice names for each other,’ she said.

‘I’m sure I never called you names.’

‘You used to say I was a little cat-Hey, careful!’

He’d dropped his spoon with a clatter. Mandy retrieved it and realized that he was staring at her. His face had gone very pale.

‘I said that?’ he asked.

‘Once or twice. It was just a joke. It’s because of my black hair and green eyes.’

‘Anything else?’ he asked raggedly.

‘You said I was like a feline, insinuating myself wherever I wanted to be. You even said I insinuated myself into your mind and wouldn’t go away.’ She gave a slight laugh. ‘I reminded you that I was always awkward, and you agreed at once.’

‘How very brave of me,’ he said, trying to match her light-hearted air.

But the effort was too much. The strain he was suppressing broke through.

‘Why did you come here?’ he asked suddenly. ‘Why now, after two years?’

‘I thought you were dead, or I’d have come before. I only found out recently that you were still alive.’

‘And you came to see how I was. That’s very kind-but why?’

The answer almost burst from her.

Because we were close in heart and mind, as well as body. Because you told me that you loved me just before you were snatched away from me, and I can’t forget that, although you’ve forgotten it as though it never happened. And because we have a child.

But all she said was, ‘Surely it’s not surprising that I should be concerned? We spent two days in that hut, half starving, freezing, talking, tripping over things in the dark.’

‘Ah, yes,’ he murmured. ‘That sort of thing creates a bond between people, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes-’ she began eagerly.

‘And so they become friends.’

She bit back her disappointment. She was becoming good at that.

‘Yes,’ she said brightly. ‘Friends. And friends look out for each other.’

Renzo raised his head to look at her directly and she saw him with new eyes. His features were much the same, if a little older, thinner. But the light behind them was different. Harsh, tense, despairing.

‘Thank you,’ he said politely. ‘It’s good to have friends. How did we become separated?’

‘You went into the forbidden room-’

‘Forbidden-’

‘We called it that because the front wall was missing, so we avoided it except when we needed to see outside. I found you there, looking out for a helicopter, and then the ground started to go again. You pushed me to safety, but the floor gave way under you. I know I began screaming, but then I passed out, and the next thing I know I woke up in the hospital.

‘They told me afterwards that a helicopter did fly over the hut, and they landed a team to burrow into the snow, just in case. That was how they found me. My friend, Sue-I told you about her-came for me and took me home. She’s stayed with me ever since.’

And she was with me while I bore your child.

But the words wouldn’t come. Not yet.

‘What about you?’ she asked. ‘You must have been badly hurt.’

‘I broke my pelvis, did some damage to my spine,’ he said with a shrug.

‘And you fool around getting out of that wheelchair when you shouldn’t?’ she demanded. ‘Are you crazy?’

‘If I don’t walk, I won’t recover proper movement,’ he snapped. ‘I’m not supposed to live in this thing all the time.’

‘But you are supposed to be sensible about getting out of it too often, aren’t you? And sensible is one thing you’re not.’

His temper flared. ‘I’m not sensible? Look at yourself. You’re the crazy woman who insisted on coming with me when I went after Henry. I warned you, but would you be told? Did anyone ever tell you anything? You were trouble from the word go.’

She knew a surge of relief at the way anger had freed his mind.

‘So you do remember that?’

‘Yes, it suddenly came back. I don’t know why.’

‘Because you lost your temper. That’s great.’

‘Most people don’t enjoy it when I get angry.’

‘I’ll bet they don’t. You terrified that poor man yesterday-’

‘That poor man tried to cheat me out of a very large sum of money. He thought because my body is damaged my mind was damaged also. He was wrong, as I took great pleasure in proving to him. If he takes it any further I’ll make him sorry he was born.’

‘And enjoy doing it,’ she observed.

‘Yes!’

There was a hard silence, then he said, ‘You must allow a man his few remaining pleasures.’

‘I suppose so. It just seems a sad way to enjoy yourself.’

‘Most of the other ways are closed off to me. I take what I can. I don’t go out among people too much because I hate the way they stare at me.’

‘Perhaps they’re just friends, sympathising.’

‘Some of them. Mostly not. Especially women. I can see them wondering if my skills are the same. They go into a ghastly parody of flirtation and they imagine I don’t know what they’re thinking-can he, can’t he? Shall I put it to the test?’

‘No,’ she protested in horror. ‘You must be wrong about that. Nobody could be so cruel.’

‘What do you know about it?’ he raged.

‘Perhaps they really do find you attractive?’

‘I’d have to be very conceited to believe that.’

‘Or maybe they’re just trying to be nice.’

‘Pity, you mean? Show the poor cripple a little mercy, he has so little in his life. Do you think that’s what I want?’ He slammed his hand down on the chair.

The unexpected window onto his suffering left Mandy too shocked to speak. After a moment she managed to say, ‘I only meant that you don’t really know what people are thinking.’

‘Don’t tell me what I know. In the past I moved among the kind of women who gave a man marks out of ten. I’m paying for it now. I promise you, I know exactly what they’re thinking.’

Suddenly he rose, forcing himself out of the chair so fast that he was unsteady and had to grab the furniture. Instinctively, she put out her hand but was repelled by the ferocity in his eyes.

‘Don’t touch me.’

Mandy backed off, horrified to discover that she was actually afraid of him.

But he relented at once, with a wry look and a placating gesture. ‘Ignore me. I get like this sometimes and I take it out on whomever happens to be there.’

Renzo made his way back to the wheelchair. It looked like defeat.

‘What were we talking about?’ he asked wearily.

‘Me, insisting on coming with you after Henry. You think I was just being awkward but I went with you because I thought you might appreciate some support. That was stupid of me. In fact-’

‘What is it?’ he demanded, seeing her suddenly pale face.

‘Nothing, I just thought-Oh, heavens!’

‘What is it? Tell me.’ He reached out and grasped her hand. ‘Tell me!’

‘If I hadn’t insisted on following you, Joan and Peter wouldn’t have come, and they might be alive now. You’re right-it was my fault.’

‘No, that wasn’t what I was saying. I wasn’t accusing you of anything.’

‘You don’t have to-it’s true.’

His fingers tightened on her hand with sudden urgency. ‘Listen to me. Don’t start thinking like that. Hell lies that way.’ His voice lowered. ‘And, believe me, I know about hell.’

‘Yes, you do,’ she whispered.

‘Once you let the demons into your mind, you can’t get rid of them. Don’t let them in, Mandy.’

‘It’s too late,’ she said. ‘They’ve been there all the time. Not just Joan and Peter, but you. You saved my life, throwing me to safety. If I’d grabbed you a little faster, I might have stopped you falling away.’

‘You couldn’t have done that,’ he said in the most gentle voice she’d heard him use yet. ‘You hit your head on the wall, and that stunned you.’

‘I’ve often thought,’ she said slowly, ‘what might have happened if you’d just grabbed me and run to the back. We might both have been safe.’

‘Or we might both have gone over. There wasn’t time. I was desperate to get you to safety, and throwing you in that rather brutal fashion was the quickest way.’

‘Or if I’d stayed at the back of the room instead of coming closer to you in that stupid way, you wouldn’t have had to save me at all, and you might have had time to save yourself.’

He stopped her with a finger over her mouth, and she saw kindness in his eyes.

‘It wasn’t your fault. Nothing was your fault.’

‘But how do you know if you can’t remember?’ she dared to ask.

It was a mistake. He drew back.

‘I don’t know what I remember,’ he said. ‘Things I thought were real turn out to be figments of my imagination and…the other way round. That’s why talking to you is so useful.’

He said the last word deliberately, like a shield being put into place. Her heart sank. And yet she’d been given more than she’d dared hope for.

His face changed again, becoming haggard and racked with a pain that was more than physical.

‘Talk to me,’ she begged. ‘It’s been a bad time for me too. We can help each other as nobody else could.’

‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘Or maybe it would be the opposite, for both of us.’

Mandy understood. She might be the one to unlock the demons he was suppressing with iron control, and the resulting catastrophe would destroy him. He was already terrifyingly close to that edge.

‘How do you survive?’ he whispered.

‘I wasn’t as badly hurt as you. But you didn’t mean that, did you?’

‘In here,’ he said, indicating his head. ‘At night, in the dark.’

‘I’m not as alone as you. I have help.’

‘Ah, yes, your friend, Sue.’

She drew a deep breath, knowing that the moment had come when she could tell him about Danny, the child of hope who could bring him new life, as he’d done for her.

‘It’s not just her-’

She stopped, for he’d covered his eyes with his hand.

‘Never mind,’ he said harshly. ‘I didn’t mean to ask.’

‘But I’ll gladly tell you-’

‘Another time, perhaps. I need to be alone.’

The moment had gone. There was nothing to do but face it.

‘All right, you’ve had enough. Get some rest.’

Smiling faintly, he nodded. Unable to stop herself, she laid her hand against his face. He might spurn her, but nothing could have stopped her offering him comfort in the hope of breaking through the barrier he’d built around himself.

At first he didn’t move, but then he touched her hand, holding it against him. His eyes closed, his whole body shook, and she realized that, incredibly, he was weeping.

Then he pushed her hand away.

‘Go,’ he said curtly. ‘Just go.’

‘Shall I come back tomorrow?’

‘No…yes…I don’t know. I’ll call you.’

‘I’ll be waiting.’

He didn’t reply, and her heart broke for him. As she left, she turned to see him sitting in the wheelchair, his back towards her, his body rigid. As she walked away, her hand was still wet with his tears.

Mandy half expected him to call her later that day, but he didn’t. Nor the next day.

When she telephoned Sue, her friend was indignant. ‘Don’t let him treat you like this. March in there and tell him he’s got a son and it’s time he faced facts.’

‘No,’ Mandy said at once. ‘That would only make him retreat further. He’ll only come back if he comes willingly. If not-’

She couldn’t make herself finish the sentence. It was too soon to face the possibility of another parting, truly final this time.

But, as the days passed with no word from him, she grew annoyed. Whatever his feelings, he had no right to treat her like a pathetic ex-girlfriend, dumped because she was a bore.

Again and again, her mind played over the end of their last meeting, when anger had made him speak without restraint and his hard face had softened, just for a moment. And then he had wept, and she’d dared to hope that warmth might grow again between them.

But perhaps the fact that she’d seen his tears had been her undoing. After that he’d wanted to get rid of her.

On the third day she rebelled. If he thought she was going to sit here awaiting his pleasure, he was badly mistaken. She was, after all, in Milan, a city so famous for fashion that it had given the world the word milliner. She spent a fascinating afternoon studying the expensive shops, ended in a restaurant and took a taxi back to the hotel.

‘Signorina,’ said the receptionist as soon as she entered, ‘a gentleman has left many messages for you to call him back.’

The relief was overwhelming. It had come right at last, as she had surely known it would. Taking the paper he held out, she hurried up to her room and dialled the number she saw written there.

‘Pronto!’ The voice that answered was not Renzo’s.

‘This is the Signorina Amanda Jenkins,’ she said hesitantly.

‘Signorina, thank you so much for calling back. My name is Eugenio Ferrini. I understand that you are a researcher of the highest calibre.’

She sat down abruptly on the bed. It wasn’t Renzo. He still hadn’t called her.

Mandy made some reply, and the smooth voice at the other end explained that he was embarking on a book for which he would need some research done in England, and she had been recommended to him.

‘Why me?’ she asked, dazed.

‘Your name is better known than you think. My wife and I would be so glad if you would join us for dinner tomorrow evening. I can show you my papers and we can discuss the work you can do for me.’

‘Thank you, I should love to,’ she said, making a note of his address.

At least this way her trip would not be wasted, she thought angrily.

His house was close to the Via Montenapoleone, the fashionable street where she’d walked that very afternoon, and therefore the most expensive part of town. If the Ferrinis lived there, she had better take a lot of trouble about her appearance.

By next morning there was still no call from Renzo and she set out on a shopping trip in a mood of determination. First Gucci, then Armani, then Louis Vuitton, then a dozen others, until she had settled on a simple dress of dark green that echoed her eyes, set off with tiny earrings that were a convincing imitation of gold, and shoes with suicidally high heels that did wonders for her ankles and legs.

Then it was the beauty parlour for a session that left her skin dazzling and her hair teased into a curvy confection, disdaining the slight severity of her usual style. When she’d returned to the hotel and donned her new clothes she knew herself to be fit for the most glamorous party.

A limousine called at exactly seven o’clock and conveyed her the short distance to the Ferrini villa, which looked as if it had been built several hundred years earlier by an inspired architect.

Lights poured from the building and her host was already at the door on the top of the steps, smiling in welcome.

‘Dottoressa, how kind of you to come at such short notice.’

She was astonished. Her college degrees entitled her to be addressed as ‘Doctor’ but it was still surprising that Ferrini had known it. How much did he know about her, and who had told him?

He was a small, thin man with white hair, a lean face and a brilliant smile. He introduced his family, then took her inside, where she received a shock. She’d expected a small gathering, but there were at least a hundred people there, enjoying pre-dinner drinks.

Ferrini introduced her as an honoured guest, repeating Dottoressa several times, so that they should all appreciate that a person of distinction had come among them. And Mandy soon realized that they were genuinely impressed. They were Italians, with a respect not only for learning but for the indefinable quality known as bella figura. It was something she had noticed in Renzo-style, assurance. Now she sensed that her fellow guests could see it in her, and her confidence flowered.

The others were dressed in the costliest of jewels, the most elegant of clothes, but it was Mandy who stood out, perhaps because she had chosen a simple look. Or perhaps because she was stunning. The men opened their eyes wider at the sight of her, and many of them jostled to get close and offer her wine.

Only one man did neither. Like the others, he watched the new arrival carefully, but only from the shelter of a large bookcase, to see without being seen, for he feared prying eyes.

If they could observe him now they would rake him over, fascinated by the longing which he tried to hide but feared he couldn’t. Worst of all, she might guess the truth.

He’d seen a difference in her from the start. Her face was no longer the cheeky imp he’d known before, but older, thinner, marked by sadness, yet no less entrancing. It added one more confusion to those that already swamped him, and her appearance tonight-chic, beautiful-only compounded his bewilderment.

And she knew she was beautiful. Oh, how she knew it!

Suddenly he was back in that other time, when she’d forced him to watch her with another man, dancing as though they were one, moving sinuously, provocatively, teasing, taunting him, daring him to take action.

And he hadn’t dared, because what he’d wanted to do was toss her over his shoulder, carry her to bed and make love until they were both dizzy.

Which, might, just possibly, have caused a scandal.

Now, she was doing it again, flickering through the lights, vanishing, reappearing, luring him on yet, with every movement, every turn of her head, proclaiming herself queen of her surroundings and far, far out of his reach.